Jun
6
Le Terrier
Category: Cycling |
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The more observant of my reader will have noticed that it’s been a bit warm in this neck of the woods over the last few days so Mrs Anorak and myself have sensibly hidden from the blazing heat by riding bicycles through miles of glorious Lancastrian countryside with hardly any shelter.
This was not some strange way of having fun. Oh no. This was serious stuff. This was training. Such as élite athletes might be expected to do. But a little slower.
We had a schedule that included the words ‘hill training’, ‘rest day’ and ‘event’. Unfortunately, due to an error at the planning stage ‘rest day’ seemed to have filled almost every day since the end of March and ‘event’ was today.
And so it happened that we received an email from the good people at Lancaster CC reminding us that we should arrive at the Ashton Memorial at around 7 o’clock in the morning to sign on for Le Terrier, a sportive which is not only 78 miles long but also features a promised “no junk miles”.
Mrs Anorak had some sense and opted for the shorter 44 mile route. Her rigidly-adhered-to training plan of rest days, avoiding all big hills and gardening had prepared her better for this “puppy” route than the full version which I lovingly refer to as “the bitch”.
So the morning dawned and we realised that we really did have to haul our backsides out of bed. Fortunately, it was neither pouring down with sun nor with rain although a fine mist (referred to, surely for reasons of space, on motorway matrix signs as “fog”) seemed to cover the county.
Arriving at Williamson Park to sign on, we had a good dither about how many apples, bananas and layers of clothing to carry before starting the ride with a lovely descent to a small dip about 100 yards away before the beginning of the climb to Jubilee Tower.
The map suggests that the aforementioned architectural prominence offers scenic views and is but a short ride from Lancaster.
Cartographers lie. Kilogrammes of carbon fibre overtook me as I struggled climbed manfully upwards, allowing Mrs Anorak to set a more leisurely pace.
Descending from Jubilee Tower I had the choice either to have a blurred, spectacleless view of the road ahead or a blurred, windscreen wiperless view of the same. I opted for the latter, reckoning that I could wipe them with my gloves. Not such a bad plan, if only my gloves hadn’t already been used to wipe my breathing apparatus.
Sportive rides are entirely non-competitive. For this reason, the majority of riders blasted past me without so much as a “hello” or a twitched finger on their way to the first checkpoint at Marshaw from whence the puppy was to climb over the Trough of Bowland and the bitch was to whizz round to Scorton, Oakenclough, Chipping and Whitewell. This stretch was actually fairly fast.
And then I saw it. The route sign at Whitewell pointed skywards. (Several riders didn’t see and, I guess, found themselves accidentally on the shorter route.)
The ascent to Cow Ark is so quick as to be almost forgettable when attempted in reverse, as Mr and Mrs Anorak had indeed done only on Friday. From today’s perspective things were a little different. I engaged my granny ring and pedaled at something rather less than a snail’s pace as more kilogrammes of carbon fibre shot past me. One was almost certainly disqualified for asking after my health.
Shortly afterwards (in lateral distance terms) the road dropped. I don’t know quite how fast I descended but I know my Garmin was reporting a speed of 36mph as I passed a pair of surprised walkers near the top on the other side.
And then, more but slower climbing. The Garmin told me I had already climbed 1400 metres in 35 miles. Almost half of the distance was complete and slightly less than half of the ascent.
I began to hate descending, feeling these downward slopes were robbing me of the altitude I had worked so hard to acquire and knowing that I’d only have to labour more to regain those missing metres.
Plans to complete the whole of the bitch, which includes a challenging climb of Roeburndale, had already been shelved. The climb to Bowland Knotts was the location of the first forced dismount as my legs chose to go on strike.
By this point a CTC member wearing a Manche à la Méditerranée jersey and I were leapfrogging each other and having a friendly chat. Possibly he was allowed to do this as he, like me, had mudguards. He was a stronger climber, I overtook him on each descent.
The last of the puppy-riders were at the main feed station in a fine spot at the top of Lythe Fell. They had been passed by the entire field, possibly because of their mudguards, possibly because they were on a mission to buy and eat cake wherever they possibly could en route. They had already failed to reach one check point on time because of their conscientious devotion to this mission. With only thirty minutes to go before the next checkpoint shut, I decided to get a move on. They decided to assist in consuming cake.
I had decided to avoid the Roeburndale part of the long route, believing that the return leg would be made somehow easy by this choice. All I can say is that Roeburndale must be one heck of a climb.
A pinging in my back pocket informed me that Mrs Anorak had arrived back at the Ashton Memorial, comfortably ahead of schedule. An arrow on my Garmin let me know that I was 5 miles behind my own schedule. I refused to let my lack of concern show.
Le Terrier is a great ride, with happy, friendly people at the feed stations and checkpoints. It’s just a shame that so few of its participants appeared willing to reciprocate. I hope to be back next year. Who knows, by then Mrs Anorak might be ready to tackle the long route.
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Location:Gaythorne Ave,Preston,United Kingdom
